


Probability

by Fragged



Series: In Our Time [2]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-10 00:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3269381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fragged/pseuds/Fragged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe nothing will happen, he thinks. Maybe the future them were wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Sequel to [Written in the stars](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3203687).]

“Goddammit, Rush!” Young says when he finally catches up to the man. “How long were you planning on avoiding me?” 

He hasn't seen Rush since the other Destiny disappeared, and that was yesterday night. 

Rush rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Longer than this, obviously.”

“Look, this is about _them_ , right?” Young asks, careful and cautious and basically just really trying not to set Rush off. God, the man is a lot of work. 

“Didn't you say you thought our future wasn't as set in stone as they said it was?” 

“Yes,” Rush answers grudgingly.

“Then why are you freaking out?” 

Rush huffs. “I'd hardly classify not wanting to stop every five minutes for a heart-to-heart in the corridors with _you_ as freaking out, Colonel.” 

“Yeah, okay, fine,” Young answers dismissively. “The thing is, maybe we won't end up like them, maybe we will. Either way, acting all squirrelly and weird around each other is not going to do a damn thing to make any of this less awkward. If anything, it's just going to make people aboard the ship suspicious.” 

Rush clearly doesn't agree, but he keeps his mouth clamped tightly shut. 

“Just because it happened to them, doesn't mean it _has_ to happen to us, right?” 

“Probably,” Rush concedes. 

“So then can we just be normal around each other for now? I'm really not enjoying the high school drama.” 

Rush's mouth twitches incrementally. “High school drama.” His voice sounds slightly disgusted.

Young feels a small smile tug on his lips. “Well, aside from the time travel, surprisingly similar.” 

Finally Rush looks up at him, a sober expression on his face. “I'm not going to play into their hands, Colonel. Don't get your hopes up about this.” 

A surge of irritation flows through him. “Yes, because of course you would translate 'Let's not behave like children' into a confession of undying love.” 

“I saw the way you looked at the other me when you said goodbye,” Rush mutters darkly. 

For once Young is glad for the low lights in Destiny's corridors, because he feels himself flush at the implication of Rush's words. The tickle of fingertips against his palm is still fresh in his memory. 

“Don't flatter yourself, Rush,” he bites out. 

Rush just gives him an insolent look. 

“We're going to review the kino footage tomorrow morning,” Young says, changing the subject before this can turn into a fight. 

Rush suddenly looks cagey. “We?” 

Ah. Young understands his apprehension. “You and me. I've told Eli to keep all the recordings pertaining to us to himself. I figure we need to collect all the hints and warnings our other selves left us, but I'd rather keep this...thing between us, for now.” 

“Right,” Rush says, with a vague nod. He's still frowning slightly, but Young figures his worst fears have been laid to rest for now. 

“Okay. Tomorrow morning, then.” 

And with that, he turns around and makes his way over to his quarters. 

-

 _“Colonel Young, you need to come to the control interface room. It's Rush.”_ Even through the radio Young can tell Eli's voice sounds strained. 

“On my way, Eli,” he answers, already shrugging on his jacket with a resigned annoyance. He's become intimately familiar with the feeling since coming to this ship. 

-

He can't say he's entirely surprised by the turn of events. Doesn't mean he's not pissed off, though. 

“Damnit, Rush!” 

Rush is standing next to the console, looking vaguely guilty, but mostly just irritated. 

“What the hell was your plan, even?! To destroy all the recordings, so that, what? You could change the future?” 

Rush crosses his arms and looks to the side. “Not _all_ the recordings,” he mutters defiantly. 

“Oh, well, I guess that's okay then,” Young says sarcastically. 

Rush sends him a withering glare. 

“Uh, well, good thing my other self warned me about this, because the future seemed pretty great, for the most part,” Eli says, interrupting their little stand-off. 

Rush snorts disrespectfully, and Young isn't sure whether it's an 'I should have known' snort, or if it's a comment on how he feels about their supposed future. Maybe it's both. 

Young rolls his eyes and shrugs off the unrelenting frustration Rush is so good at inspiring in him. They're different now. They've been getting better since before going into stasis. Since Rush finally came clean about the mission. 

Yes, there have been a few setbacks. And yes, every now and then Rush still insists on being an antagonistic little shit, but Young is starting to make peace with that. The important part is that Rush failed, and honestly, for how smart that man is, he really does come up with some stupid plots. 

“Great,” Young says. “I was looking forward to finally catching a full night's sleep, but it seems that's off the table now.” 

He's not going to give Rush the entire night to try again. Besides, maybe this is one of those cases where it's easiest to just rip the band-aid off quickly. 

“We'll start watching the footage now, then. I'm thinking we start with whatever you tried to erase.” 

Rush sends him a look that is pure, unadulterated panic, before his face closes off and his expression becomes unreadable. “Fine.” 

Young keeps his own face passive as Eli lines up the recordings for them. Everything about Eli's body language betrays his obvious discomfort. 

“Uh, just press these buttons if you want to go to the next bit, or if you want to fast-forward,” he explains quickly. Young is glad he seems more than willing to leave Rush and him alone to go over the footage, because it will be awkward enough without a third party present. He remembers his conversation with his other self, and feels uneasy just thinking about having to sit through that with Rush present. 

“Alright, thanks, Eli. You can go now.” 

“Yeah,” Eli says. “Good luck.” 

Young has no idea whether it's meant for him, for Rush, or for both of them, but it sure bodes well for how fantastic the rest of his night will be.

-

After Eli leaves, they stand mutely in front of the monitor for a full minute. Neither of them is particularly looking forward to what they're about to do, obviously. But Young knows that putting it off any longer is only going to open him up to more sabotage attempts from Rush. He sits down on the bench. 

“Come on, let's just get this over with,” he says to Rush, and watches with an odd sense of accomplishment as Rush reluctantly takes place next to him. 

When Young moves to press 'play', Rush's hand shoots out to stop him. 

“Wait, could we...” he says, quickly retracting his hand before actually touching Young's arm. “Could we start from the beginning?” 

Young considers it for a moment. He has a hard time saying no when Rush asks him things earnestly. Maybe that should have tipped him off a long time ago. 

“Alright,” he answers, as he selects a different file. There's no real reason to make this more difficult than it has to be. They'll watch it chronologically. 

For some reason he feels slightly better about the whole thing when Rush's shoulders lose a bit of their tension at his concession. 

They watch the other Rush and Young step aboard on the screen. Rush huffs out an annoyed breath when the other Young puts his hand on the other Rush's shoulder, and Young feels somewhat amused. It's not hard to see the other them derived at least some pleasure from messing with him and Rush. Feeling Rush's irritation practically rolling off of him in waves, Young kind of understands the appeal. 

-

They watch the other Rush explain how to rid the water filters of the tiny organisms growing in them. While TJ and Camile are busy decontaminating one of the filters, Rush takes the other Rush aside and asks about the time travel. 

“I can't tell you much more about it than I already have,” the other Rush says with a slight shrug. “You will figure it out as you go. Don't spend too much time going over the technical details in your mind right now; it's a waste of effort.” 

The Rush on screen crosses his arms in annoyance. “You should know that it doesn't work like that. Better than anyone, I would say. There has to be something you can tell me.” 

“Hm.” The other Rush smiles slightly. “I can tell you some things will change drastically over the next three years. Mostly for the better. I can tell you to listen to Park when she warns you about tectonic overpressure, and to ignore Volker when he worries about electromagnetic radiation from an asteroid belt influencing the long-range sensors. I can tell you to check out the orange grain when Scott finds it on the planet. And I can tell you that relief and adrenaline can be powerful negators of inhibition, and that when the time is there, you'll make things much easier on yourself by just accepting what you really want.” 

Rush scoffs next to him, in sync with the Rush on the recording, and Young looks over at him with a raised eyebrow. 

Rush ignores him. 

-

The scene in the mess hall is slightly awkward for both of them, but none of it is a surprise. They were there when it happened. In hindsight, it's so obvious the future versions of them had been dropping hints from the moment they set foot aboard the ship that Young doesn't know why it came as such a shock to find them making out in the control interface room. 

-

The silence between them is deafening. On the screen, the closed doors to the control interface room are all that's visible. The other Rush had somehow managed to program the kinos assigned to him and the other Young into staying outside while they...well. 

Young fast-forwards through twenty minutes of just that, trying desperately not to think about what's happening inside the room, until he and Rush enter the scene. He feels his face flush as he puts the recording back into normal speed just in time to see them catching the other two in the act. They both sit in still silence as the events from yesterday are repeated on the monitor in front of them. Young is mostly embarrassed about how he handled his gun. He also has a really hard time not watching the other Rush's flush, or the way his gaze goes from dazed and hazy to sharp and taunting. It's strangely alluring.

After the clip ends, Rush starts fidgeting next to him, and Young wonders what exactly happened in between them stepping out of the control interface room and them saying goodbye to the future versions of themselves that Rush is so anxious about. 

Then the next fragment starts playing, and it's Rush and the other Young. 

“Hey,” the other him says. 

“What now?” Rush asks, annoyance clear in his voice. He's typing something into a console, but the other Young just steps up next to him. 

“I know this is hard for you.” 

“And how would you know that, Colonel?” Rush nearly sneers. 

“Because you told me,” he says with a small shrug. 

Rush finally looks away from the console and regards the other Young with a haughty expression. “I'm not sure exactly what kind of game you're playing, but if you expect me to play along, you'll be sorely disappointed.” 

The other him just sighs. “Why exactly are you so opposed to this?” 

“How about simply because it's _you_?” Rush says heatedly, and Young feels something unpleasant crawl in the bottom of his stomach. 

“That won't be enough of a reason, Rush,” the other him says mildly.

“Yes, you seem very certain of that.”

“You're already important to me, to _him_ , you must realize that, right?” 

The Rush on the screen looks as tense as Young feels. 

“I'm the best he's got.” 

The other Young smiles. “Sure. But it's not just that, and you know it.” 

“No, I don't.” 

“Well, then trust me.” 

Rush looks down at his console again, and Young almost doesn't catch the hint of amusement on his face. “Now why would I want to do that, Colonel?” 

The other Young huffs a quiet laugh. 

“Ah, the cavalry,” he says to the other Rush, who's just meandered into sight. A small smile and a nod pass between them, before the other Young excuses himself and strides out of the room. The recording switches over to the kino following the other Rush seamlessly.

“Well, your taste has certainly gone to shit,” Rush says by way of greeting. 

The other Rush smirks meanly before replying, “Pretend all you like, I know you've wondered about it.” 

The Rush on the screen looks up in shocked outrage. “I have done no such thing!” 

The other Rush shoots a glance right at the kino, before turning back to Rush. “Of course you haven't.” He leans closer and his voice lowers conspiratorially. “It's good, though, with him. The Colonel is solid, strong. Well, you already know what those hands feel like on you. You've thought about it plenty. And his mouth...ah, he's quite good with it.”

Young feels as mortified as the Rush on the screen looks. He wants to glance over at Rush, but from the way his entire being is suspended in tense stillness, he's pretty sure the man is one wrong move away from fleeing the room. Young has a hunch this is what Rush had been trying to delete earlier. 

“Are you just here to irritate me?” the Rush on the screen grinds out after a few beats of silence. 

“Tempting, but no. I'm here because there are some more things I'm supposed to tell you.”

“Right. Wouldn't want to ruin your precious future,” Rush says caustically. 

“It's one of the best outcomes for everyone, you can't refute that.” 

“I have no interest in repeating the same message over and over again,” Rush says, dragging his hand through his hair with an annoyed expression on his face. “But I will say it one more time: I do not want this.” 

The other Rush regards him quietly for a moment. “That's not entirely truthful, though, is it? Part of you wants more of it, that feeling you had when Young told you he'd stay behind on the ship with you.” 

The Rush on the screen looks away, bends over his console again, but it's clear to Young that he is listening to every word the other Rush says. 

“It's a big ship. A big mission. You want nothing more than to not have to carry the load all by yourself anymore, and Young is right there, every day. He's strong enough. He can help. He _wants_ to help.” The other Rush looks almost troubled for a second. Then he says, “I know how alone you are. It's better when we're together. Let him in.” 

Rush sighs and presses his palm against his forehead like he has a headache. He doesn't speak.

“You can try to deny it all you want, but it's going to happen eventually. I'm not convinced this intervention was even necessary.”

Finally, the Rush on the screen looks the other Rush in the eye. “You keep acting like this is a matter of choice solely on my part. It's not as if Colonel Young wants this either.” 

The other Rush smiles, and for the first time it seems there is something approaching actual sympathy in his eyes. “He's unexpectedly receptive to the whole thing.” 

“Well, none of this is open to debate,” Rush snaps suddenly, drawing himself up to his full height. “It's not going to happen, because _I don't want it to happen_.” 

The other Rush shakes his head. He seems mildly disappointed, despite the fact that he must've already known how this conversation was going to end. The recording ends when the other Rush starts making his way back out of the room. The kino catches a glimpse of Rush before swinging to follow the other Rush along. In that one second, the Rush on the screen looks vulnerable, eyes dark and teeth worrying at his bottom lip. Young isn't sure what to make of it at all. 

-

After the revealing footage he just watched, he suddenly doesn't feel quite so embarrassed about his own conversations with Greer and his other self. Sure, the way Rush looks over at him when the other Young hugs him on the screen makes him feel a little flustered, but it's alright. They've both been embarrassed by all of this, and somehow it's not so bad, because at least they're in this together. 

He hopes Rush sees it the same way. 

-

“Well, this was enlightening,” Rush says acrimoniously, as he gets up from the bench. “Are we done here?” 

“Rush,” Young starts to say, but he has no idea what he's going to follow it up with. 

“Good.” And with that, Rush marches out of the room. 

It's four AM. Young stifles a yawn and shuts down the console in front of him. All in all, this wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. He decides to get a few hours of sleep while he still can. 


	2. Chapter 2

They don't talk about it. 

Young orders Eli to keep all the footage from that day stored safely, and to collect all the warnings and predictions the future versions of them had made, for easy reference. Other than that, things go back to normal rather quickly. 

People are enjoying the new provisions; TJ has been able to restock most of her medicinal cabinets, and there is a hopeful atmosphere surrounding the hydroponics lab now that they have received so many new seeds and plants. 

After some initial awkwardness between him and Rush, things mostly go back to normal on that front too. They've learned a few things about the other they hadn't fully realized before. And after the first couple of days, when it becomes apparent neither of them is going to use their newfound knowledge to the other's detriment – be it for fear of mutual destruction or simply out of sympathy – the uncomfortable tension between them slowly subsides. 

While Young finds himself wondering about some things at the most inappropriate times ( _You've thought about it plenty_ , the other Rush had said), he finds it easier to be patient when he thinks about others ( _I know how alone you are_ , the other Rush had also said). 

In the end, everything is slightly better, slightly easier. Even between the two of them. 

-

The more he thinks about it – and he really tries not to think about it too much – the more he realizes he's not at all opposed to the idea. 

If Rush wanted to touch him right now, he thinks as Rush is finishing his dinner with the ferocity of a starving man, he would probably not push him away. 

If Rush decided to tell him they should give it a try, he thinks as they're sharing a bridge shift, he would probably go along with it. 

If Rush were to kiss him right now, he thinks as Rush is talking to him about a repair on the hull, he would probably kiss him back until they were both flushed and out of breath. 

Yeah. He's really not at all opposed to the idea. 

-

But Rush doesn't want to touch him. Rush doesn't tell him they should give it a try. And Rush certainly doesn't kiss him. 

Sometimes Young catches Rush looking at him, something wary and calculating in his eyes, but even those looks become less frequent as the weeks go by. 

Nothing happens, and with every day that passes, it seems less likely that something will. 

Two months after meeting their future selves, Young decides to let it go. Maybe nothing will happen, he thinks. Maybe the future them were wrong. 

It leaves him with the strangest sense of disappointed relief. 

He thinks he sees it mirrored on Rush's face once, but it's gone before he can be sure. 

-

Still, when things are back to normal, when they stop suspecting something big to happen, to change, between them, the whole debacle actually brings them a bit closer. It's something they experienced together. Another secret they keep for each other. And isn't there something inherently intimate about keeping secrets with someone? He and Rush have done that more than once. It's another strand, another connection between them, and maybe it's what makes it possible for them to get along a little better. 

Every now and then they share a look across the room, little hints of amusement or exasperation. It starts to feel natural to check to see how Rush is reacting to a new development, to catch his eye and recognize the knowing smirk, or the thinly veiled frustration, or sometimes the uncertainty there. 

They get just a little closer to friendship. 

Sometimes Young still thinks about the way the other Rush's face looked, flushed and twisted up in pleasure, but that wasn't Rush, that wasn't _his_ Rush, and most of the time he can keep the two separate in his mind. 

And if Rush features in his dreams and fantasies more often than before, that's nobody's business but his own, isn't it?

-

It's nearly six months after coming across the other Destiny that they find the first tangible proof that the others were telling the truth. That they were really from the future. 

_“Colonel, we're about three klicks south of the gate. We found the orange grain we got from the future Destiny!”_ Scott sounds excited. _“Inman says we should probably collect as much as we can, so we're going to need a kino sled to carry it all back.”_

“Copy that, Lieutenant. I'll take a kino sled over to you in an hour. Young out.” 

He calls Eli to send a kino sled through the gate, and then he calls Rush. “Scott found that orange grain.” 

His radio is silent for a few beats. Then it crackles, and Rush says, _“I'm on my way, Colonel.”_

Fifteen minutes later, he and Rush take off in the direction of Scott's team with the kino sled. It's not far, about a half hour's walk, and Rush seems somewhere between wary and eager to discover what exactly is so special about the grain. Why the future Rush had told him to check it out. 

The trees on this planet look a bit like oak trees back home, only instead of the round, curving shapes of oak leaves, these trees have jagged, triangle-shaped leaves. It still baffles him, how most of these planets look so similar to Earth, yet also completely different; _wrong_ , somehow. 

“What do you think you'll find, when we get there?” he asks after about ten minutes of walking. 

Rush glances over at him, then his eyes flick to something over his shoulder and widen, and Young only just hears the warbled growl coming from behind him before Rush tackles him to the side with a surprising amount of strength. They smash into the ground hard. Young hits his head on an exposed root, temporarily stunning him and causing stars to dance in his vision. Distantly he feels Rush's fingers scrabble against his hip, as something that reminds him of a tiger, only with smooth, scaly skin like a snake, leaps through the space where they were just standing. Everything happens so fast. Adrenaline pinpoints his focus on the beast in front of them, its talons are longer than seems practical, and its incisors stick out at least three inches from both its top and bottom jaw. The creature skids, turns around, and immediately attacks again. 

Before he has the time or the wherewithal to do more than reach for his sidearm, two loud shots are fired right next to his ear. It's Rush, he's holding Young's gun, and the creature crashes to the ground in front of them with a heavy _thump_ that he feels more than hears. 

Fuck, his ears are ringing; a high-pitched tone that's even louder than his own harsh breathing. 

Young squeezes his eyes shut for a second, trying to clear his head from the slight fuzziness, and gets up slowly to study the creature that's lying dead on the ground. Rush hit it in the shoulder and in the left eye, pretty goddamn impressive, and only then does it start to sink in that he'd probably be dead right now if it wasn't for Rush. 

_“Sir, we heard shots. Is everything okay?”_ It's Scott's voice. Young can tell he sounds worried, even through the ringing in his ears.

He palms his radio and answers with more composure than he's currently feeling, “Yeah, we're fine. Just enjoying the local wildlife, Lieutenant. It might be edible. We'll be there in twenty minutes.” 

Rush is leaning against a tree, breathing hard, still holding the gun in his hand. “Glad to see you've got your priorities in order,” he says with a shaky laugh. And before Young realizes what he's doing, before he can overthink it and talk himself out of it, he goes over to Rush, pushes him up against the tree with his body weight, and kisses him. Fuck, he's been thinking about it for _months_ , but right now the urge is undeniable. 

Rush makes a surprised sound and tenses up, but almost immediately he surges forward, opens his mouth to him, and then they're kissing, clawing at each other, and he doesn't even wince when Rush drops the gun because this is more important, this is heat, and being alive, and _real_. Rush's body is warm and solid against him, and Young's hands want to go everywhere, to feel everything. Rush is fisting his fingers into his shoulders, and his tongue is strong and almost forceful against his, and Jesus, yes, he gets it. Not just on an abstract, theoretical level, but in a way that is visceral and physical. He _wants_ Rush, for real. 

_“Colonel, we just heard from Scott that you were attacked by local wildlife? Is everything alright?”_

He groans against Rush's mouth, before taking a step back and grabbing his radio again. 

“Yeah, everything is fine, Camile.” His voice sounds a little ragged, but he's sure she won't be able to tell through the distortion of the radio. “But warn people that there are predators on this planet, and make sure every civilian who wants to go beyond the clearing has a military detail.” 

_“Copy that.”_

By the time he's put his radio away again, Rush has collected the kino sled. He sends Young a short glance over his shoulder. His face is completely void of emotion, and Young wouldn't believe they'd been making out just thirty seconds ago if his own lips weren't still tingling. 

“We should be on our way, Colonel,” Rush says matter-of-factly. 

“Yeah, okay,” he answers, not quite sure how to react in this situation. “We can pick the carcass up on our way back. Let's go.” 

Rush doesn't speak for the rest of the trip.

-

After they get back from the planet, Rush seems to have worked himself up into a quiet state of frenzied rage. He runs off as soon as they step through the gate, and Young knows that going after him right now will only lead to a fight. 

It's okay if Rush wants to avoid him for a bit, because if he's honest, he's not entirely sure how to feel, himself. Yes, he'd been somewhat attracted to that future version of Rush, the one who'd seemed a bit calmer, a bit wiser, and who'd clearly cared a lot about the other version of Young. But that was not Rush, not _his_ Rush. And while he may have had the odd thought or fantasy about him, deep down he hadn't expected it to ever really go anywhere. He's a bit taken aback by how much he actually wants this. 

Rush has been opposed to the whole thing from the start, Young knows that. But Rush had kissed him back, had responded just as hungrily, and Christ, he can't think about that too much right now, not in the middle of the gate room. But Rush had wanted it too. 

So. This is it, then? He wants this to happen? He's going to actively pursue it?

Because if so, he has to be sure. And then he has to figure out his approach. Because Rush is a handful of trouble on a good day, and Young is usually two wrong words away from a punch to the face; fewer when it's about _them_ in any kind of romantic sense. 

He needs to think this over carefully. Rush's fit might just turn out to be fantastically timed, for once. 

He gives himself a day to figure things out. By then, hopefully Rush has calmed down a bit, as well. 

-

“Eli, go to the bridge and keep an eye on things from there,” Young says as soon as he steps inside the control interface room. “I need to talk to Rush. Alone.” 

Eli gives him a suspicious look, and lets his eyes dart between him and Rush a few times. 

“Right. That doesn't sound ominous at all,” he says sarcastically. But he grabs his laptop and makes his way out of the room with little more than another skeptical frown at them both.

Young ignores it. Having seen all the kino recordings, Eli knows most of what went on between the future versions of them. Young is not here to discuss that with him. He's here to discuss it with Rush. 

Rush looks at him with undisguised apprehension. 

“So,” Young says. “About yesterday...” 

Rush turns around fully to face him, back leaning against his console, and interrupts him. “I don't want to talk about it.” 

Young feels the corner of his mouth twitch upward. “Not talking about it isn't gonna make it go away, Rush.” 

“And talking is?” Rush's voice is as sharp as his gaze. “You should drop it, Colonel.” 

“Why?” he asks calmly, and he can see the precise moment Rush runs out of patience. 

“We are doing _exactly_ what they did!” Rush throws his arms up in agitation. “He said it would happen. He...he set me up!” 

Young keeps his face blank, patient, as Rush paces in front of him. 

“And what about _you_!” Rush says, rounding on him with narrowed eyes. “I thought you didn't want this any more than I did! Why did you—” He huffs in something closer to annoyance than disgust. “Why did you _do that_?” 

It takes all his self-constraint not to roll his eyes at Rush. “I don't remember you ever asking me.” 

Rush stares at him with a vague look of disbelief on his face. “What?!”

“I do want it,” Young says with a small shrug. “And, well. What we saw of their future, it looked pretty okay, actually.” 

Under different circumstances, Young would have laughed at the slack-jawed expression on Rush's face. As it is, though, he's too preoccupied; his embarrassed nerves contending with an odd feeling of moral superiority. 

Rush had kissed him back. He can act outraged and unwilling all he likes now, but in that moment he'd wanted it too. And it feels good, finally saying it out loud. Finally admitting that he wants Rush. 

Rush doesn't say anything back, just crosses his arms in front of his body. It's a defensive move, and not a very creative one. Young sighs and makes up his mind. 

“Don't worry. I won't do anything like that again,” he says, as he looks Rush straight in the eye. “Not unless you ask me to.” 

It's a promise, but it's also a challenge, and _just_ before Young turns and walks out of the control interface room, he catches a glimpse of Rush's face. He's frowning. In Young's opinion, he looks altogether dissatisfied, and slightly pissed off.

Young smiles to himself. 

He's starting to believe their future selves were right after all.


	3. Chapter 3

On the surface, things seem to go back to normal. Except now there is something between them, something that colors every single interaction. Every time he looks at Rush, he remembers what his mouth felt like. What he _tasted_ like. 

And if Rush's increasingly agitated glances are anything to go by, it's not much different for him. 

While a large part of Young just wants to crowd into Rush's space and kiss him until he gives in, until the stubborn idiot admits he wants this just as much as Young does, he knows that's a recipe for disaster. Rush might go along with it in the moment, like he did on the planet, but afterwards he'd probably be furious. At best, they'd go back to this awkward, sexually charged atmosphere. With an extra thick layer of animosity on top of it. 

Besides, he'd promised he wouldn't. This has to be Rush's decision. The man has control issues. And possibly intimacy issues. And then there are all the general Young-related issues, of course. 

So no, he can't force Rush to face the attraction between them. Not like that. 

Doesn't mean he's going to make it any easier for Rush to keep ignoring it, though. 

-

He starts out with something simple. Subtle. Maybe too subtle. 

“Do you want to go down to the planet?” he asks, because sometimes Rush gets it into his head he wants to see a planet for himself, and if Young gets to tag along, that might be fun. 

“What could you possibly want me to do down there? It's a hunk of rock,” Rush answers, with a slight frown. 

“Ah, no.” That's not what he meant at all, and Rush is giving him this look as if he hasn't decided whether to be annoyed or confused, and suddenly Young feels _self-conscious_. Goddammit. “Never mind.”

Rush throws him a puzzled look, and walks out of the gate room. 

Young shakes his head. That was probably the most pathetic attempt at courtship in the history of pathetic attempts.

-

His next approach is better. Probably because it involves less talking. 

He smiles at Rush. 

Rush stops dead in his tracks, right in the middle of his sentence, and says, “What?” 

“What?” 

“What are you smirking about?” Rush asks, suspiciously narrowing his eyes. 

“I wasn't smirking, I was smiling.”

“At what?” 

“At you.” 

“Why?” And Rush sounds genuinely confused. 

Young rolls his eyes. “It's what people do, Rush. They talk to each other, and they smile at each other. It's a pretty basic part of human interaction.” 

Rush raises an eyebrow at him and regards him for a few seconds. Then he continues talking about the shuttle's potential Delta V capabilities like nothing happened. 

-

He tries again the next day. They're on the bridge, and when Rush makes eye contact, Young smiles at him. 

Rush gives him that same noncomprehending look he'd given two years ago, when he'd told Rush he liked chess. It reminds him of Rush's face when he'd asked, “Twelve, plus you and me?” 

Young thinks it's what Rush looks like when something unexpected happens. Something nice, but so incredibly unlikely that he needs to figure out if it's a trick being played on him. 

Jesus, if a simple unsolicited smile can cause that reaction, he really needs to step up his game. 

From now on, he decides, one smile a day should be the bare minimum. And it's not even about getting together with Rush, either. This is just something that needs to happen regardless of whether or not Rush decides he wants to be with him. 

Because damn it, he's going to befriend the jerk even if it kills him. 

-

Smiling at Rush earns him an exasperated eye roll now, which is a marked improvement from the look of baffled distrust it inspired before. 

Still, Rush doesn't seem even an inch closer to admitting that the _want_ between them is mutual. 

They're in FTL when Young walks into the bridge. They're not expecting to drop out for a while, and Rush is in the command chair, pulling up screens on his console with a look of intense concentration. 

Young smiles to himself and walks over to the side of the console. 

“Colonel,” Rush greets him without taking his eyes off his monitor. Young gets the feeling it's a deliberate move on Rush's part. 

“Rush,” he says, putting his elbow on the railing and resting his head on his hand. 

“Can I help you?” It's not as pointed as it would have been a year ago, Young is quite sure of that. 

He hums. “I'm bored.” For once, there's nothing that needs doing aboard the ship, and instead of enjoying it, he feels fidgety and rambunctious. 

Finally Rush looks at him. His eyebrows are arched almost delicately, and the corner of his mouth is quirked up ever so slightly. Young is pretty sure Rush is starting to enjoy his company. 

“May I suggest reading a book, then, instead of keeping people who _do_ have work to do from doing it?” 

Oh, that's definitely a smirk. Young feels his own lips curl upwards in response. “Any recommendations?” 

“Well,” Rush muses after a short moment. “It's rumored Volker brought a copy of The Bull Calves on board with him. I'm not certain it's true, but it's a personal favorite.” 

Hm. Interesting. 

“Alright,” Young says slowly. He doesn't miss how Rush is focusing just a bit too hard on his console again. “Thanks.” 

“All for the sake of productivity, Colonel,” Rush answers dismissively. 

If he didn't know better, he'd say Rush was flustered. 

Very interesting.

-

“You want _that_ book?” Volker asks. Young isn't sure if he should take his disbelieving tone as an insult. 

“Just tell me what you want for it, Volker.” 

Books, any kind of entertainment, have pretty much become legal tender on the ship. 

Volker gives him a speculative look. “Well... I've had my eye on your copy of War and Peace for a while now. And I want your fruit rations for a month.” 

Young narrows his eyes slightly. “One week.” 

“Deal,” Volker says quickly, with a slightly baffled expression, and Young wonders how bad a trade he just made. Pretty damn atrocious, probably, since Tolstoy is one of the most sought-after authors on the ship. 

He doesn't care, though, and he grins brightly when the books exchange hands. 

-

The book is not what he'd expected. 

It's... There's darkness, sometimes an intense feeling of hopelessness that almost radiates off the page, but it's surprisingly romantic as well. The love story between the protagonist and her husband exudes warmth, and throughout the entire book, their romance seems to function as a beacon of light and hope for the future. When he closes the book, he realizes there's a content glow weaving through his chest. 

Young can barely believe Rush read this book, let alone that it's one of his favorites. 

He smiles to himself. Rush is an old romantic. 

-

Young feels nervous as he knocks on Rush's door. It's 4 PM, not an unseemly hour at all, but he still has to consciously keep from glancing around the corridor to make sure no one sees him. 

He almost jumps when the door opens suddenly. Rush is standing in the opening, barefoot, in just his white undershirt and jeans, and he rubs blearily at his eyes. His hair is mussed on the left side, and it is all strangely enamoring. 

“What?” Rush asks, but instead of sharp, his voice is sleep-soft. “Is something wrong?” 

“Uh,” Young says, before presenting Rush the book. “I just wanted to give you this.” 

The look is back. That suspicious, uncomprehending expression. It really looks kind of heartbreaking on Rush's face right now. Maybe it's because he just woke up, but it's like every emotion is magnified somehow. 

When Rush doesn't move to accept it, Young physically pushes it into his hands. 

Rush frowns down at the cover for a few moments, and when he looks back up at him, Young's breath almost catches at the trace of hope in his face. 

“...Why?” Rush asks, quietly. 

This time it's Young's turn to look down at the book. “You said you liked it.” 

Rush snorts, and that finally pulls this conversation back into the realm they're more used to. “How did you even get this?” 

“Volker basically gave it to me,” he lies. “I liked it, by the way.” 

Rush gives him a small smile, and there's a hint of sadness in it. “Gloria, my wife...she was the one who made me read it. She loved Mitchison, but this one most of all.” 

Young doesn't really know what to say to that, scared that voicing any of his thoughts right now will cause Rush to retreat back into himself. He stays quiet. They're not good at this, at sharing these personal stories with each other. 

“Thank you, Colonel. This...” Rush pauses and flicks his eyes over the cover again. “Thank you.” 

“You're welcome,” he says, and the look Rush sends him makes his heart do a little flip. “And, ah, goodnight, I guess?” 

“Yeah,” Rush says, running his hand through his hair self-consciously. It looks like he wants to say something more, but then he nods and closes his door, and Young is left there thinking this was probably both the nicest and the strangest conversation they've ever had. 

A pleasant jitter of expectant nerves warms his chest from the inside, and he can't keep the contented smile off his face as he makes his way back to the bridge.

Yes. Definitely worth his Tolstoy. 

-

One time – and this is the thing he is proudest of, the moment he likes to remember late at night right before he falls asleep – he manages to make Rush laugh. 

Rush usually has the most awkward reactions to his jokes; he has a range of quiet stares going from indignant to disbelieving, and those seem to be his favored response to Young's attempts at humor. It probably means something that Young is starting to find himself taking great delight in those. 

But one time, not long after he gave Rush the book, he gets to hear Rush laugh, and it's beautiful. He has to jam his hands in his pockets to keep from touching Rush, to keep from pulling him closer, kissing him breathless and doing plenty more that would be a bad idea on its own, let alone in the middle of the bridge with the science team looking on curiously. 

Something of his thoughts must show on his face, because Rush looks at him with an unreadable expression. For a split second Young thinks he's leaning forward, coming closer, and then he abruptly steps away and goes back to his own console, and that's that. The moment is over. 

Young doesn't miss the way Volker looks at him, something speculative and befuddled in his face, but nothing unkind. 

Everything goes back to normal within the next five minutes, and then it's almost as if nothing happened at all. 

But something did. He made Rush laugh. And the warm feeling of accomplishment lingers for days. 

-

Sometimes he wonders if this is a good idea. Because what he's doing right now, it's making him like Rush. More and more. He's pretty sure he's dangerously close to actually falling in love with the guy, and if Rush doesn't reciprocate his feelings, that's going to hurt like hell. 

But then he catches Rush looking at him, and he knows he isn't imagining the conflicted longing there, underneath the shock of being caught, and then the cover of indifference. Rush wants him. He doesn't _want_ to want him, but he does all the same. And if Young can somehow show him why it could be good between them, how it might benefit the both of them, then maybe that'll be enough to make him come around. 

He's not going to give up just because he might get hurt in the end. 

-

He sees them when they're gathering food on a planet. Flowers. White flowers, with long, curlicued petals, unlike anything he's ever seen before. They're beautiful, and alien, and they smell fantastic. 

He jokingly imagines himself picking them, tying them together into a bouquet, and giving them to Rush. It would probably be quite a surefire way to get a rise out of the man. He wonders if anyone ever got Rush flowers before. Maybe as a thank you, but as a romantic gesture? Young could very well be the first. 

Hm. 

-

“Those are nice.” 

Young turns around to the source of the voice, and is glad to find out it's only Volker. 

Still, his first instinct is to hide the bouquet behind his back. It's obviously too late for that, though. And also, he's not a cartoon cat.

“Are they for Rush?” Volker asks. And damn, apparently he isn't nearly as oblivious as Rush's constant complaints led Young to believe. 

He considers lying, but his treacherous mind refuses to come up with a less inappropriate person to give the flowers to. Besides, Volker looks kindly inquisitive rather than judgmental. 

When he doesn't speak, Volker gives him a hesitant smile. “I could deliver them to his door, if you want. I'd attract a lot less attention walking around with a bouquet than you, anyway.”

Oh. He'd been so caught up in the idea of Rush's reaction that he hadn't even thought about how he was going to get the flowers to him. Volker makes a fair point, though. Chances of him walking around the ship unseen are pretty minimal, especially if he's holding an armful of flowers. 

“You would do that?” he asks, finally. 

Volker shrugs uncomfortably, and gives him another unsure smile. “You seem like you could use someone in your corner.” Then he grins and looks at the flowers. “Plus, I'm pretty sure Rush will hate it.” 

Young can't really disagree with that, and finds himself sending Volker an answering smile as he hands him the flowers.


	4. Chapter 4

Rush barges into his quarters without knocking. 

He plunks the vase down on Young's desk angrily. And, oh, did Rush just trot all over the ship with that? The thought makes something warm and embarrassing twist in his stomach. 

“What is this?” Rush demands, gesturing at the bouquet. 

Young raises an eyebrow. “I'm going to assume that's a rhetorical question.” 

“It's a goddamn irritated question! What the fuck are you doing?” 

“I got you flowers,” he shrugs. “I fail to see why this concept is so hard for you to grasp, Rush.”

“Is this— Are you attempting to _woo_ me?” Rush asks incredulously. 

Young almost bursts out laughing, because yeah, he thought it was obvious. 

“Is that why you're being so _nice_ to me?” 

And of course Rush would take that as a mortal offense. 

“Maybe,” he answers. 

“Well. Stop it.” 

“Stop being nice to you?”

“Yes!”

“Why?” 

“For fuck's sake, Colonel!” 

And when Rush loses his cool, he _really_ loses his cool. He whirls, and he swears, and he pulls his own hair. In an odd sort of way, it's actually quite magnificent to see.

“I thought you understood that this isn't going to happen between us. You promised you would let it go!” 

Young feels his brow furrow slightly. “I said I wouldn't kiss you again, Rush. I never said I would let it go.” Rush glares at him like the distinction is merely a loophole, and Young squares his shoulders. “And I don't think I'm the only one who wants it. Why exactly are you so opposed to this?” 

Rush lets out a frustrated sound. “Do you really need me to give you a reason? How about three?” 

He steps into Young's space with a menacing frown, and holds up three fingers. “One, we don't even like each other.” 

Young gives him a mild look. “Debatable.” 

“I don't like _men_ ,” Rush snaps. 

“Well, that's just not true.” Young frowns. “I thought you were worried _I_ was the homophobic one?” 

“I'm not homophobic, I'm stating a fact.” 

“A false fact, though.” He still remembers the way Rush had clawed at him, nearly devouring him from where Young had pushed him up against that tree. He's quite sure they would've gone further than that if Camile hadn't chosen that precise moment to radio him. The thought has played through his mind a _lot_ , these past few weeks. 

Rush sighs deeply and glances to the side with an annoyed shrug. “Shut up.” He touches his second finger. “Two, it would be bloody impossible to keep something like this a secret on the ship.” 

“Okay, true, but we already know the crew takes it pretty well.” 

“Do you really think I give a fuck about whether the crew _takes it well_?” Rush says with a withering look of such contempt Young opts not to voice his answer to that question. “I don't like people nosing into my personal business.” 

Young shoots him a blank stare. “I hadn't noticed that,” he says dryly. 

Rush scowls at him. “You're not listening! Is this all a fucking joke to you?” 

“I'm listening, Rush.” Young gives him a benign look. “But you're just not being realistic right now. Everyone is all up in everybody's business here. And people gossip about you whether you're involved with me or not. The other day I heard someone say that the real reason you're always so mean to Volker is because you're secretly in love with him.”

Rush scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, thanks for sending him to my room with flowers, I'm sure that helped.” 

Young chuckles. “Yeah, sorry about that.” 

For a quick second, Young thinks Rush is going to relax, but then his shoulders tense up and he clenches his jaw in...agitation or indignation, Young isn't sure. “Fine. Then three – and this is by far the most important one, Colonel – _we don't trust each other_.” 

By the end of his sentence, Rush actually seems to deflate a little bit. Rather than triumphant or angry, Young would almost say he looks frustrated. After a few seconds, he lowers his hands and starts to pick at the nail on his third finger absentmindedly. It makes him look unusually insecure. 

“Rush,” Young says, carefully placing a hand on Rush's shoulder. Something warm unfurls in his chest when Rush doesn't flinch away. “You're not wrong, alright? There's definitely...room for improvement, for both of us. But I want to trust you. And I know you want to trust me, too.” 

Rush turns his head to the side, refuses to make eye contact. But he doesn't shrug Young's hand off, and that's encouraging. 

“We can work on it. It doesn't have to be perfect right away, does it?” Young says, with a small squeeze to Rush's shoulder. 

“I just don't see this ending well,” Rush says, and his voice is quiet.

“We have _literally_ seen the future versions of ourselves, Rush. Clearly it ends well.” 

“You say that like you know what you're talking about, but you don't have any authority on the subject of time travel, or predestination. Who says we haven't already changed the future? Or that one of us won't say or do something that fucks everything up?”

And that's it, isn't it? Rush is scared. He's been trying to deny what's been happening between them, even to himself, but clearly he wants it too. 

God, right now all Young wants to do is slide his hand up from Rush's shoulder to his neck. To cup his jaw and pull him in closer until he can quiet his worries by licking them right out of his mouth. It takes an almost inhuman amount of willpower to let his hand drop off Rush's shoulder, instead. He promised.

“Yeah, somehow I get the sense they had this exact same conversation. And something tells me the only reason they ended up the way they did was because that other version of you wasn't too scared to actually give this a chance. You're not a coward, Rush, so what the hell?” 

Rush gives him an exasperated look. “Are you honestly trying to use some bungled version of reverse psychology on me right now?”

“Only if it's working,” Young says with a tiny smile. It widens when he sees the corner of Rush's mouth twitch up for a second. 

Rush ducks his head and pinches his temples like he has a headache. “This is the worst goddamn idea,” he mumbles. But when he looks up there's a challenge in his face. 

“Jesus Christ. Alright, _fine_ , you relentless bastard. Just fucking do it already.” 

“...Kiss you?” Young asks, after a few seconds of stunned silence –because somehow he hadn't expected Rush to really change his mind after all– and then Rush makes a frustrated little noise in the back of his throat and grabs his jacket to yank him forward. 

“Fuck's sake, you're insufferable,” Rush growls, and presses their lips together hard. After the first moments of shock Young gets with the program, just as Rush starts pushing him backwards until the backs of Young's legs hit the desk. 

Rush's mouth is rough, almost angry against him, but when Young wraps his arms around him, pulls him in closer, Rush finally seems to calm down a bit. His lips go pliant and soft against Young's, and when he nudges their tongues together Rush makes a small noise that sends a thrill of butterflies down to Young's stomach. 

He feels himself react as Rush's hands move to open his jacket, as they slide over his shirt, and then slip under it. Rush's hand's are slightly callused, and the gentle-rough sensations against the skin of his chest are not what he'd imagined at all, but absolutely perfect nonetheless. 

His own hands are on Rush's back, rucking up his shirts and dipping underneath, roaming over the smooth skin appreciatively as his hands and mind chant a chorus of _yes, finally, yes, yes, yes_. 

When he kisses Rush's neck, though, that's when he realizes that maybe he's a bit out of his depth here. Because Rush starts making these sounds, these thready moans and half swallowed curses, and it's impossible not to react to that, not to suck and lick and bite at the skin of his throat until Rush is panting for it, grinding his erection into Young's hip desperately. 

Young pulls back; he doesn't want their first time to end so quickly, no matter how fucking hot the thought of making Rush come in his pants may be. Later, he promises himself. Later they'll have all the time in the world for hurried and sloppy. Right now he wants to make sure he's doing this right. 

Rush lets out an annoyed whine that makes Young huff out a breath, part amusement and part lust, and Rush opens his eyes for a halfhearted glare. 

It makes Young grin as he shrugs off his jacket, because yeah, he really thinks he might be falling in love with this ornery bastard, and the fact that Rush's thumb is tracing slow, absentminded patterns over his left nipple as his eyes search Young's face gives him hope that it might be mutual. He kisses Rush's lips again. Soft. Gentle. Little nips and the barest trace of tongue, until Rush finally runs out of patience and pulls his face closer to deepen the kiss. 

It's odd, how right this feels, how much he loves the feel of Rush's beard against his skin, how thrilling it is to have Rush's hands on him, strong and determined and just a little bit rougher than he's used to. Because before all of this started he'd never seriously considered being with a man, but right now he'd give anything to feel Rush's naked skin against him, to get his hands on Rush's cock, to watch him come undone until he is nothing but a quivering mass of post-orgasmic bliss. 

Young is still contemplating whether he should take a step back before this escalates too quickly, before he scares him off, when Rush unexpectedly shoves his hand between Young's legs and cups his erection with a squeeze that makes him gasp and stutter his hips. Rush slides his fingers out of Young's hair and then he's using both hands to open up Young's pants, and then his own, and before Young fully realizes what is happening, they're both pushing their underwear down and rutting up against each other with a frenzied lust that overtakes all conscious thought. God, it's fantastic, chasing that friction against Rush's stomach, slick with sweat and precome, the head of his dick catching almost painfully on the edge of Rush's shirt with nearly every thrust. 

“Rush, wait,” Young pants out, trying to regain some control over the situation. He holds Rush's hips still with both hands, and it's so incredibly difficult to keep his hands right where they are. “Are you sure?” 

“Jesus, are you going to be like this the whole time?” Rush curses, and then he makes the most exquisite gasping noise when Young wraps his hand around both their cocks and squeezes them together, and _God_ , Young's not doing much better himself, because this is amazing. The silky, throbbing heat of Rush's erection against his own sends tingles down his spine and prickles up his skin.

Rush pulls him closer, his hands gripping painfully into Young's shoulders as Young strokes them, setting up a pace that brings both of them right to the edge, until Rush is so close he's saying nothing but “Yes, yes, oh _fuck_ , yes.” Young leans forward then, sucks a deep red bruise into the skin of Rush's throat –anytime he'll look in the mirror he'll be reminded of what Young did, what _they_ did– and with a harsh cry, Rush comes. 

Young can feel it, can feel the way Rush trembles through his climax, can feel the hot slick of his come pulsing against his fingers and his cock, and that's really all it takes to tumble over into orgasm himself. 

Afterwards, Young rests his head on Rush's shoulder as he waits for his breathing to go back to normal. When he finally looks up, Rush seems a bit lost, unsure of what to do next. It calls up a surge of protectiveness in Young, and he places a quick kiss on the corner of Rush's mouth before guiding him by the hips and leaning him against the desk. He goes to his shaving nook to grab a towel, cleans himself off quickly, and tugs his boxers back on before going back over to Rush, who is still looking a bit out of it. 

“You okay?” he asks, as he wipes Rush's skin a bit more carefully than he did his own, mopping up their mess with the clean side of the cloth and then tucking Rush back into his underwear with a gentle touch. Rush is looking down at Young's hands, drowsy and a little confused. 

“Rush,” he tries again, and this time he uses his free hand to tilt Rush's face up to his own. “You good?” 

“Yeah,” Rush blinks after a short stare. “Yeah, I'm fine.” 

“Should we talk about this?” 

Rush huffs a breath and rolls his eyes, finally looking more like his usual self again. “No, I think not.” 

Okay, that's fine. He can't expect Rush to suddenly be an open book now that they've...whatever this was. He still wants to know, though, what this means to Rush. If he's allowed to show Rush how he feels, now, without getting berated for it. Young drops the towel on the floor and feels his heart beat wildly as he leans forward and takes a risk. Rush stays still, as if he's not sure what Young is planning to do, and when their lips touch it's oddly chaste for what they just did. For who they _are_. 

“Let's go to bed,” Young suggests quietly, and it feels like another huge leap of faith to take Rush's hand and lead him to the bed. He's half surprised Rush doesn't yank his hand away, doesn't tell him to fuck off, doesn't storm out of his quarters in an angry huff, but instead lets himself be sat down by Young, and starts taking off his shoes of his own volition. 

Young sits down next to him and kicks off his own boots after undoing the laces. Rush is looking at him, then, searching his face for something. Young isn't sure whether he finds what he's looking for, but he's less interested in asking than he is in kissing Rush again. 

The heady thrill of not being pushed away is addictive, and he can already see how that might become a problem in the future. 

He finds himself smiling against Rush's mouth, and by the time they settle into bed, Young's arms wrapped around Rush's middle and Rush's hair tickling his nose, he wonders when Rush is going to fall in love with him. It's going to happen somewhere between now and two and a half years from now, and that thought stays with him as he drifts off to sleep. 

-

Young wakes up the minute Rush starts moving, but he keeps quiet and still as Rush gets out of bed. He listens as Rush putters around, gets dressed, and sits back down on the bed to put on his shoes. After a few minutes, Rush gets up again, and Young opens his eyes to see him grab the flowers from the little side table near the door. 

“Morning,” Young says quietly, and Rush jumps a little. “You're taking those?” 

Rush regains his composure and gives him a look so full of disdain Young _knows_ it means he's feeling embarrassed. “Well, they're mine, aren't they?” he says testily. The tone of his voice tells Young not to argue. Not that he was planning on arguing. If anything, it makes him want to smile, and hug Rush, and tell him to come back to bed for just another hour. 

He knows he can't, though. He doesn't want to risk Rush running away again, deciding Young wants too much from him. No, he'll take this as slowly as Rush needs him to. Even if right now he wants nothing more than to grab Rush and drag him back to bed. God, he just wants to kiss him. 

“All yours, Rush,” he says instead, hoping against hopes that Rush understands he's not just talking about the flowers. 

Rush gives him a little uncertain look then, and Young can't help but be curious as to what he's about to say. He's quiet for a long time, standing by the door with the vase in his hands. 

“Will I see you tonight?” he asks finally, voice uncharacteristically flat. 

Oh. With a rush of understanding Young realizes there was no need to play it cool, to worry about coming across as clingy, after all, because Rush wants this just as much as he does. Young smiles, then, and gets out of bed, naked except for his boxers. Rush watches him in a way that is either wary or appreciative, or both, as Young pads over on his bare feet and stops in front of him. 

“Yeah, I'd really like that,” he murmurs, before gently nudging the flowers to the side and kissing Rush with all the tender affection he holds in his chest. Rush seems to relax, then, his shoulders finally losing that slight hunch. One of his hands comes up to touch Young's cheek, and Young gets it. He gets how his future self and that future Rush had made it work, because this is something completely new between them. Something they've never experienced before. This makes it so much easier to be gentle, and to be open, and to just be goddamn _good_ for each other. 

He smiles when they finally break apart, something buoyant and hopeful fluttering around in his chest. 

It only multiplies in intensity when Rush gives him a slight smile in return. 

Yeah, they're going to make this work. 

-

_**Twenty-seven months, six days, and eleven hours later:** _

“This feels incredibly forced,” Rush says, and it ruins the mood completely. It is unexpectedly hard to start this in the spur-of-the-moment, natural way they usually do when they know they're on a schedule. When they know at exactly what time their other selves will walk in on them. 

Young is both dreading and looking forward to seeing the past versions of themselves squirm. There's something oddly endearing about watching them stumble around each other, completely oblivious to what's right in front of them. 

“Well, you better get into it, or that Young is never going to fall for that Rush,” he says with a raised eyebrow, the kind of look he knows drives Rush up the wall. Because maybe that is what they need to make this convincing. 

“Hrmph, I saw the way he looked at Rush. You wanted me long before all of this.” 

And yes, that's it. That's them. 

“You're insane.”

“You're an idiot.” 

It's easy then, to haul Rush in for a kiss. To push him up against the wall and slip his knee between Rush's legs. To work his lips and tongue over Rush's throat until both of them are hard and out of breath.

By the time the door whirs open, they've almost forgotten why they're here.


End file.
